Of Ladyfingers and Radishes
by Schizophrenic Eggplant
Summary: Raditz/OC. Non-Yaoi. Side story to my other fic 'Voices'. Rating may go up later. R&R ^_^
1. Prologue

**Of Ladyfingers and Radishes** by `InSaNe`/Schizophrenic Eggplant.

A/N:  This was originally started over a year ago as a story involving my friend Silke developing a major crush on a certain Saiyajin in DBZ.   It's not Vegeta though, (he's mine).  If you guessed Kakarot, you're close, but not quite there.   My friend came up with the character Okura.  She belongs to Silke and I am only borrowing her.

**Prologue – (A small peep into the future, year approximately 736, before the destruction of Planet Vegeta). **

**The WHAT Force?**

In the middle of cold space, dotted with stars in varied degrees of aging, five white jagged lines streaked across like the nails of some supreme being had scratched through the thick blanket of endless nothing to reveal a new universe beneath.   It was not so in this case, it was merely the jet-streams of five round, smooth pods, as they rocketed along, heading back to their base – a small planet that could hardly be visibly identified throughout the miasma of other shining, twinkling celestial bodies.  On the doors of these pods, an insignia was emblazoned, to announce that they were different, not like the rest.  This insignia comprised of an orange circle, pierced thrice at its circumference at equal distances by a white triangle pointing downward, inlaid with a smaller blue triangle.   

This was Frieza's most fearsome attacking force ever, the ones who went the furthest, to conquer planets that were not part of the tyrant's empire, but branding them as such by the time they had masterfully completed their work in their masters name.

They were:  The Fringe Force.  Or the Double F's, as a less formal alternative.  They were the most loyal to Frieza, bordering on fanatical.  They would do anything to please him, and hardly ever failed.  There was no-one above them but Frieza himself.  They had no internal command, they sometimes made their own rules, for the good of the empire of course.  Only they had the authority to alter some of Frieza's strict constitution, for they were skilled tacticians so they very rarely made any critical errors.   They were revered and idolised by some, and despised and envied by others.  For good reason.

They were paid much higher than Frieza's regular soldiers, treated almost like royalty, and privileged beyond most desires.  It looked like they had their freedom, to those with tunnel vision.   It was quite the opposite.  They had gone through the most rigorous brainwashing and hadn't been turned into blubbering messes, they had been exposed to the most heinous physical training ever conjured up by the sadistic mind of Frieza, and survived.  They were slaves to the extreme, having given up their whole person, forgetting truly who they were, not even having the small liberty of remembering how, and what they used to be.  All they knew was to serve Frieza, and they indulged in it, and enjoyed it, and that is why they were rewarded so bountifully.

And then there were the drugs. 

For some who had made it past the physical and mental screening programmes, the drugs had been introduced.  It was a toxic combination, that wasn't compatible with most immune systems, but so some, with possible mutated DNA, the chemicals enhanced certain bodily functions beyond normal capacity.  Only five superior systems could handle the cocktail of drugs.  They were now currently in those very space pods.

Guldo – a small, squat dwarfish froglike being with two big eyes, and two more buggier ones at both sides.   He was sturdy, and had a thick skin, which had prevented him from being seriously injured by the physical training.  His fighting ability was slightly on the poor side, but what made up for the lack of raw physical strength, was the mind-boggling telekinetic skills he had attained with the aid of Frieza's potent formula.  The drugs had affected his respiratory system, so that when he inhaled deeply and concentrated, he could freeze time.  Cool huh?  He could also manipulate large objects with his mind.  Apart from that, there was nothing much to speak of.

Jeice – the pale, beautiful one.  Well he used to be pale, and his hair was a lot shorter back in the day, not to mention dark.  Physically, the drugs had altered him dramatically.   They had increased the beta-carotene content in his skin pigments, making him appear orange.   It also made his short dark hair grow long, and completely devoid of colour, but so full of body and bounce!  His lithe, acrobatic, compact form had saved him from the brutality of the physical tests, and like most individuals on Frieza's formula, his muscle mass bulked up substantially, but not to hinder his smooth, fluid gymnastic body.  It also gave him the ability to switch from something resembling a Liverpool scouser accent while on the full dosage, which, as it wore off, changed to his normal accent, which was similar to an Australian one.

Burter – Tall and stocky in the beginning, with smooth blue skin, Burter was a creature of speed, but not fast enough to incur some slight damage in the merciless physical training, and still miraculously survived.  If the drugs had only weakened him instead of killing him like they could have, there was no way Frieza would have let him live.  However, that was not to be.  The effects of the potentially lethal chemicals transformed him into a lean, mean speed machine.  It is said that there is no-one faster than him in the whole universe, save Frieza himself, but that was still an untold secret, because no-one in Frieza's army had ever seen the lizard-like warlord in close combat situations – they just assumed Frieza was the best at everything – that's why he was in charge, right?    
  


Burter's physical strength was also boosted, as well as his ki-level, which wasn't that impressive in the beginning, and his blue skin sprouted smooth latticed scales, to decrease any drag caused by running or flying too fast.  They would repel the air around him, giving Burter almost no air-friction while he conducted his feats of speed.  His eyes, which used to be the usual iris and pupils set into a white sclera, grew a protective red translucent coating that prevented wind damage, and looked really styley.   If you didn't know Burter, and not many did – and lived, or only saw him as a blur, looking into those red eyes was most unnerving.  One couldn't tell what he was thinking, whether he was lying, or bluffing, or being downright honest.  He appeared to be a cold, blue, soulless reptile.   Jeice knew better though, and saw through the hard exterior, and with his happy-go-lucky nature, befriended the tall blue creature.  Being Burters favourite team-mate, he got to know the playful, humorous side of the speed-demon.   Burter wasn't a jokester in the strictest terms, but the occasional contrast from his usual serious side was undoubtedly comical, and he could pull it off nicely.  He was the one who was always concealing bars of chocolate in his uniform.

Recoome – The most unlikely candidate to end up in the Fringe Force.   His overbearing uncle Fritz had forced him to try out, saying that it would heighten the credit of his family name that his nephew would at least make an attempt.  Little did Recoome know, his uncle wanted him out of his life because was insanely jealous of the boys brainpower, especially when it came to programming, and machinery.  One day, Fritz flew into a rage, destroying all the little robots that Recoome had made from old junk and rejects from cybernetic factories, and a small laptop which he wired into a chip and programmed them with.  He wanted the lad to become a warrior like his late parents, and himself, and signed him up for the Fringe Force hopefuls.  Like the shy, wiry, red haired boy Recoome was, he didn't raise his wispy voice against the stentorian tones of his uncle, so he reluctantly attended the trials, and was endlessly mocked by other entrants.  Some of that mocking stopped after the ultra-brainwashing session, when the weak minds of those former braggarts could no longer form a coherent sentence, while Recoome's became clearer than ever, and with one sole purpose.  To live his life for Frieza.  It was like a new self that had always lay dormant, had come awake within him.  

Forgetting his uncle partway through the mind-purge and thought restructuring, and the horrible way he had always made him feel like nothing more than a speck of dirt in his presence, Recoome felt a surge of confidence.  He now had the chance to prove himself, to use the remarkable intelligence he was born with, and could now, without scolding or demeaning comments, or physical abuse.   He used this Kami-given gift only once more, and it had saved his life.  Like the other handful of candidates in the awaiting queue for the gruelling death-match, he had watched the slaughter of the ones before them, as their numbers dwindled.  He held his breath at the ones that made it through, secretly envious of their physical prowess, whether it was in brute strength, speed, or agility, or even their genetic makeup.  He would have been more afraid if the gruelling challenge was an organic opponent, but it just so happened, it wasn't.  He observed the movements of the machine, that sliced, mashed, pulped, tenderised, juiced, crushed, squeezed, skewered, whisked, grated, skinned, gutted, and performed every form of killing there was.  The machine was a re-modified version of a multi-purpose kitchen implement, called Kitch-N-M8 made by Cold Corporation, King Cold's little entrepreneurial project, to replace, and duly punish, unreliable kitchen slaves.  Recoome wasn't fazed at the sight of blood and exposed organs, flesh and bone now, as with the others, the gore-desensitising was enough to stay their stomachs while the most horridly morbid displays of inside-out-ness carried on in front of them, quite frequently.  

To cut a long story short, Recoome not only survived the physical test, he also defeated the machine, by use of a small version of his laptop, no bigger than a ball-point pen, that expanded when the owners thumbprint was pressed against a certain part of it.  The only physical thing that Recoome did was lunge at one of the times when the machine was switching methods of severe mutilation.   He attached a magnetic connecter to the surface of the oversized kitchen implement of doom, and just as a blade came crashing down, communication was established, halting on its path to cleave Recoome's skull in two.

Deftly, Recoome's hands moved over the touch-pad keyboard before the Kitch-N-M8 could override the temporary halt and make any more moves.  A smirk of success decorated his face, that flickered with the light off the monitor, shadowing it in an almost evil contrast of bright on dark.  His mop of bright red hair flared like a strobing flame atop his head.  In less than two minutes that seemed like two hours, the machine had succumbed to his programming.  Once he had finished, the smirk grew into a grin, and he compacted his electronic weapon, before calmly standing up, showing absolutely no sign of fear.  He turned to the Kitch-N-M8 and uttered one single word, to confirm his victory.

"Sit." 

With a clatter and a clang of stainless steel meshing together, it looked like the menacing, kill-in-a-microsecond kitchen tool had organised its parts into fore-limbs and hind-limbs, a head, with eyes of yolk-separators, and was that an egg-whisk waving at the back?   It sat at his very command.  Recoome had created a giant… Chia pet!!

Frieza was irate when he heard about what happened, but impressed nonetheless with the young boy's ingenuity.  Maybe the chemicals might enhance his intelligence further.

How wrong he was.

At first, there was hardly any effect.  After two days under observation and tests, Recoome showed signs of slight retardation in his voice, a few days later, he had trouble focusing on the complex code and equations that he used to find so easy.  Instead, his frame bulked up immensely, becoming solid, large, and very defined muscle.  

He became what his uncle wanted him to be, only Recoome didn't remember his uncle at all, it's a shame really, because Uncle Fritz would have been awestruck to have witnessed the final result, before finally accepting Recoome as part of his family, as someone completely different, at such a high price to pay – as identities usually are.

With the aid of the super-chemicals, Recoome was a fearsome adversary.  Although he only retained about 25% of his original intelligence, he used it to be a superb warrior, finding his opponents weaknesses in no time, and effortlessly annihilating them with no second thought.

These four made up four-fifths of these handpicked warriors.  The fifth one is whom half of this story is about.

As always, there had to be an odd-one-out.  You could always point out the obvious, that she was female.  It wasn't just that.  It was so much more.  That she was the only Saiyajin?  Granted, but the others were different races also, and her origin was the biggest kept secret ever.  So big in fact, that there was only one who knew the truth, and that one individual wanted it to stay that way.

The real reason she was the odd one out, is that she never had to take part in the challenging tests of physical and mental strength.  Why?  Was she one of Frieza's favourites?  'Was' being the operative word.  Frieza had long since moved his attention elsewhere, leaving her confused about herself and her identity, although she has proved herself, time and time again, as a competent fighter and hard worker.

She was Okura:  Drown in her plight, soar with her might – share in her sight.  Dwell in her past, the die has been cast – see truth at last.


	2. Chapter 1

**Of Ladyfingers and Radishes** by `InSaNe`/Schizophrenic Eggplant.

A/N:  This was originally started over a year ago as a story involving my friend Silke developing a major crush on a certain Saiyajin in DBZ.   It's not Vegeta though, (he's mine).  If you guessed Kakarot, you're close, but not quite there.   My friend came up with the character Okura.  She belongs to Silke and I am only borrowing her.  I don't own DBZ blah.

**Chapter One.**

Frieza liked his little experiments sometimes, he thrived on getting his scientists to play around with the metabolic functions of some of the subjects that were occasionally captured alive, and the younger the better.

For some unknown reason, when Frieza first laid eyes on baby Okura, her eyes pleaded him to experiment on her, to keep her as a personal little pet – at least that's what his deluded mind convinced him.  Saiyajin were sometimes known to abandon their young if they were too weak to even be sent to another planet.  He named her 'Okura', a smooth derivative from the harsh-sounding Icejin word 'Okra', a rare, quaint vegetable delicacy on his home planet.  Frieza praised himself on his clever, ironic wit of the infants nomenclature.  

When his technicians had finally made a breakthrough with the combination of chemicals, officially declaring it wouldn't necessarily have a 100% fail rate (99.9% isn't quite failure), Frieza generously donated the little Saiyajin infant, while in a curious mood.  He had taken precautions and before he presented her for all to see, carefully removed her tail himself, telling his scientific research crew that she was just another alien baby, and not a Saiyajin.  It was all part of his master plan, if it came to effect, and he did not want to endure the tireless questioning from his henchmen about his penchant for that particular race.  Only he alone knew the truth, and he would do anything in his power to keep it that way.

The scientists took notes while the technicians observed Okura's reaction from the first injection.  Shaking ensued, vomiting, explosive diarrhoea, foaming at the mouth, hot and cold fever, and eventually a brief coma followed.  Frieza became impatient by Okura's condition, and ordered her to be euthanased if she didn't come out of the deep sleep before the week was up.   On the fifth day, dusky black eyes showed themselves to the light again, and a happy squeal startled the technician on duty.  Affectionately, without having to assume the subservient manner demanded by his superiors and Frieza, the technician poked a finger into Okura's life-sustaining crib.  Bad move.  Okura gurgled with delight, grabbed his finger and didn't let go – literally.  The rest of the staff, who were taking a break at the time, came running to see what all the howling and screaming was about.  They were very shocked to discover it wasn't Okura crying her little lungs out, it was the poor technician she'd got a hold of.  Break-time forgotten, everyone went into busy-mode, hooking up more electrodes to the baby, taking blood samples, writing observation notes, and eventually prising the unfortunate finger from the uncharacteristically strong grip of the 4 month old female Saiyajin.  The finger - blue, black and purple and asking to be amputated, miraculously came right, but the technician never came near Okura again.  

Once all the effects of the illness cleared, so did her super-strength.  The solution for this was, funnily enough, another dose of the drug, at Frieza's command.  He wanted to see if she could survive another round.  The same symptoms occurred, but for half the time, and the strength returned.  What a breakthrough!   With each dose, Okura seemed to build up an immunity to the side effects which made her sick, while retaining the part of the chemical that made her strength increase up to twice that of a child five years her senior.

Her resistance built up to where she could handle 4 doses a day to maintain her strength at its constant maximum.   Everywhere she went, she carried a small pack of vials, needles and a syringe, which was hidden in a section of her armour.  Her child-size scouter, that she never went without, beeped every time she needed to take a dose, and if she was occupied with fighting something, it would beep at 10 minute intervals until she gave herself the injection.  She could survive on three, but if she had some intensive training, she found herself starting to get dizzy and sluggish.

At age four, she could defeat a single Saibaman in under 5 minutes.  Her favourite attack, unsurprisingly, was crushing it to death once she had weakened it by punching, kicking and throwing it.  She delighted in watching 'the eyes go out.'

Her power level was nothing special.   Because her raw physical strength was so powerful, no-one thought she needed to focus her ki to help add energy to her attacks.  Unlike Recoome or Burter, the chemicals did not increase what ki she had.   That did not mean that she had any to start with, and could adequately shoot a couple of basic beams.  That is all she thought ki was at first, something one shot out of their hands after they powered up.  By the time she was five, Okura was more than ready to join Frieza's army proper, starting in the 3rd class, where she would remain for five years, if she survived.   She hadn't been called upon to become officially in the army on her first mission yet, and was impatient to be released from the Initiate class.  

Because Frieza still held an interest in her, he made it his plan to keep her separate from the Saiyajin contingent.  He was curious to know if it was a Saiyajin's natural instinct to become uncultured and savage, or if isolation from their own races mannerisms caused a young Saiyajin mind to think differently.   She learnt the poise, and mannerisms of a young princess.  Frieza may have been a cold, heartless individual, but he was always very polite, and this washed off on her.  At this stage, Frieza had nothing against the Saiyajin, they were no threat.  He merely used scare-tactics to keep Okura as far away from them as he could.  If she became too pushy about that subject, he switched to other topics to distract her attention.  

She was taught about all the other races under Frieza's vast and expanding galactic empire, how planets were treated depending what rating they were;  very rarely were races allowed to function normally on their planet of birth unless they had something Frieza wanted.  Then they would work to provide him with the materials, until the supply was exhausted or Frieza had heard of something better, then sent his armies to clear the planet, and sell it.   The A grade planets were of the highest rated planets, and only rich allies of Frieza's echelon could afford such things, or wanted to.   Frieza treated the A grade planets like rare jewels, they were the ones with lush growth, a clear atmosphere, and plenty of potential to sustain life.   For the A grade planets with strong opponents, and at least one moon, he entrusted the Saiyajin, the majority being in the lower class of his army.  A team of four or five Saiyajin, regardless of gender, could wipe out a planet of medium-strength fighters overnight on a full moon.   For planets without a moon, or if Frieza wanted a planet cleared urgently, the higher classed warrior races who were stronger than Saiyajin in their untransformed states would be deployed. 

The B grade planets were populated planets, but the conditions weren't satisfactory for what his buyers were looking for in ways of aesthetic pleasure, and weren't for his mainstream customers, but mainly for one of his many personal planets, used for bases mostly, stop-offs during multi-runs.  He'd send his spies and scouts planetside to glean information about special skills among the populace that could be beneficial, and Frieza would request them, and if that request was foolishly denied, in came the army, and Frieza's wrath would be unleashed on their behalf.  If the race with the skills surrendered, they became new recruits, using those talents for non-peaceful causes.  Stronger races of limited intelligence fell into the trap of getting press-ganged by friendly individuals buying them a round and adding a little sleeping drug, or close enough to stick a little tranquilliser needle.  When they woke up, they found themselves on a strange ship, with armour like almost everyone else.  Their minds were the easiest to mould, and they soon found themselves accustomed to their new lives, or pay the dire consequences if they couldn't come to grips with a sudden change in environment.

The C class planets were derelict and unliveable.   When they were spotted, they were either ignored completely, or destroyed on site, if Frieza was feeling particularly fastidious.  

Okura learned to identify the races, and interact with most.  For some reason, Frieza, who showed an interest in her as more of an experimental purpose than parental (although she was too young to know the difference then), forbade her any contact with the Saiyajin, telling her they were unruly and uncivilised primates.  She watched them from afar, curious, because like her, they didn't have scales or deformed heads, or bodies of bizarre colours.  Physically they looked normal, no different to her, apart from one thing.  They had brown fluffy tails, that sometimes waved about, but more often than not were wound around their owners waist.  She desperately wanted to touch one to see what it felt like, but then she was scared she might get diseases because they always seemed so rough and dirty to her, and Frieza's words of warning flashed inside her mind.  The last thing she wanted was to disobey the words of someone she felt was so wise.

When Frieza wanted time on his own, which sometimes he was known to do, Okura was often watched by Frieza's 2IC, Zarbon.  The beautiful mint-skinned male was taken aback to be relegated to temporary babysitter, but reluctantly resigned himself because it was at Frieza's command, and couldn't really argue.  They wouldn't talk much, he'd just watch her, like he was ordered to do.  No further interaction was required.  

There came a time when Okura and her unwilling minder were in one of the control towers on Planet Frieza #56, when some pods landed, carrying Saiyajin warriors half-way through a multi-run, and on their way back to their home planet.  Okura jumped up to the porthole window and laughed gaily.

"Haha here come the stupid, filthy monkeys!  Nyah!"  She poked her tongue out at the semi-bloodied soldiers in their cracked armour.  Then turned around, startled as she heard a strange noise behind her.   Zarbon had his hand over his mouth and sounded like he was having difficulty breathing.

"Mr. Zarbon?  Are you OK?"  She asked, her wide eyes blinking innocently.  Zarbon could take it no longer and his massive shoulders shook with deep laughter.  Okura was a little shocked, because she'd never seen him laugh, let alone smile like that.  He'd always had a sarcastic, cocky smirk.  Okura didn't know what to do.

"Ah, little imp, no wonder Master Frieza keeps you around."  He said after the final giggles subsided.  He composed himself quickly as his scouter beeped.

"Zarbon here…  yes Master Frieza…  she's fine, no trouble at all… yes, I'll inform her at once, my lord."  Zarbon turned his attention back to Okura, who was drawing some random, dreamy designs into the mist she had created by breathing on the little round window.  Zarbon sighed.  One never got to witness such carefree acts of innocence that often.   He had to ruin it though, business was business after all.

"Master Frieza has requested your presence, girl."  He spoke soberly, the previous laughter forgotten.  Okura turned from her window, and smartly followed her tall chaperone to Frieza's rooms.  He was sitting behind his desk on his floating chair.

"Leave us, Zarbon."  His right-hand man's saluted, and Zarbon's tight green braid swung around proudly as he performed an about turn, swished his cape, and marched out of the room.  Frieza patted the desk, motioning Okura to jump up on it.  He could quite ably get out of his chair and meet her on the ground, but that was unthinkable.  Okura sat down cross-legged and her dark-chocolate eyes rested on her master and teacher.

"What is it you require of me, my lord?"  She asked in her high, angelic-sounding voice.  Frieza smiled a little smile.

"Today is when you begin your service to me properly.  We received some arrivals on this planet.  It seems that a little band of 3rd classes are going to be sent to another planet."

"I saw a group of yucky Saiyajin out the window."  Okura stated, winding her fingers around each other.  Frieza pursed his lips.  It would have been better if she hadn't seen them.

"Yes… that was who I was talking about.  They're lazy and slovenly.  You will be going with a crew of three other 3rd classes, to finish up what they couldn't.  You will leave with them in 30 minutes.  Zarbon will direct you to the pod bays, after that you're on your own.  Make sure you have enough… supplies."  Okura nodded in agreement, and tapped the place on her armour where her syringes and vials were kept.

"Good.  Enjoy yourself, little one."  It was almost an order.

"Yes!  Thank you, my master!"  She respectively bowed and exited the room.

To her little body, the pod seemed so big.  The chair that took up most of the pod was far too large for her little form, nevertheless, Zarbon showed her the basics of strapping herself in.  Luckily she could still reach the instrument panel by stretching her arm right across.  

"That button under the red flashing light is to launch.  Everything is automated after that, until you reach your destination.  Once you have landed, this switch on the left opens the door.  Got that?"  Okura glanced from one object to the other, committing them to memory.  
"I understand.  Button to launch, switch for door."  Zarbon nodded.

"Good.  Get back in one piece."  He told her, as he motioned her to use the lever to shut the door as practise.  The door shut, and Okura pressed the launch button.  The ship vibrated slightly as the engine warmed up, the thrusters engaged, and take-off began.  She saluted to Zarbon, who returned it, and then she was airborne.  


	3. Chapter 2

**Of Ladyfingers and Radishes** by `InSaNe`/Schizophrenic Eggplant.

A/N:  This was originally started over a year ago as a story involving my friend Silke developing a major crush on a certain Saiyajin in DBZ.   It's not Vegeta though, (he's mine).  If you guessed Kakarot, you're close, but not quite there.   My friend came up with the character Okura.  She belongs to Silke and I am only borrowing her.  I don't own DBZ blah.

**Chapter Two.**

Fifteen minutes later, the novelty of solo space-flight was slowly wearing off.  There was nothing but an endless blanket of stars.  Some of the supernova's looked really cool though, their bright colours of exploded stars in suspended animation.    Her radar screen beeped an alert, and a green blip showed up on the perimeter. 

"Green is for us, red is enemy."  She recited.  The blip grew nearer, and the numbers showing the distance decreased to the level at which it was almost next to her.  Next thing, her scouter beeped, indicating an incoming transmission.  She clicked the button on the side to receive the message.

"3rd class recruit Okura."  She responded.

"Ahh, yes, the fresh meat."  A rough voice intoned.  Okura raised an eyebrow.   She didn't know whether to be intimidated or angry.

"Heh heh don't worry, all of us are expendable.  I just want to make you feel part of the team.  I'm 3rd class Squad Leader G'Noth."  The gruff voice had a somewhat friendlier tinge to it.  Whether or not it was in response to her young little girls voice, she didn't know.

"Um.. OK.  So where are the others, Squad Leader G'Noth?"  She asked. 

"They shouldn't be too long, kid.  I can already see them on long range.  Hey, just call me G'Noth.  I've given up on formalities…  soldiers come and soldiers go.  I'm just the lucky one I guess.  So this is your debut mission?"

"Yes… yes, it is, G'Noth."  Okura replied.

"Ahh… I remember back to my first mission.  Six years seems like a long time in this army."

"Six?  Didn't you go up after five?"  

"No…  I lost the promotion tournament.  My ki level and kill count was too low to be automatically promoted.   I'm Squad Leader by experience only.  Luck and I guess a quick mind has saved me quite a few times now.  Heh heh.  Oh look.  Here come the others."

G'Noth opened up a multilink channel on the scouters.

"Are we all here?" 

"Yes G'Noth!"  Yelled one.

"Present, Squad Leader!"

"Call me G'Noth.  Ok, that's four of us.  For those who don't know procedures, sleeping vapour will enter your pod in a couple of minutes.  We'll be in stasis for about three days, and wake up about two hours before we land.  I will relay the battle plans then.  For now, its lights out!  Sweet dreams,"  Okura's scouter clicked as the transmission ended, and she heard the hiss of a gas escaping into the pod.  Before she could pinpoint where it was coming from, she was fast asleep.

Dreams are strange things.   To children, they almost seem real, like a surreal, interactive storybook.  To a child in stasis sleep, the subconscious hallucinations are a secondary reality, barely to be remembered on wake-up, but real as it is happening.  Okura was no exception to this rule.  Because she felt no closure before the sleep chemicals did their work, her visions were unsettled.  This was her maiden voyage, an uncertain, open-ended part of the tale called life, equivocal to the aftermath of a job interview, or an undecided answer to a marriage proposal – not that she would know of such things, but it's just a comparison.  It was unsettling, and her dreams offered her no escape.  If anything, her core reacted severely to the frightening images that appeared in the ether.

Brown fur.  Suffocating, warm, soft fur surrounded her.  The texture called to her – so coarse, yet so smooth.  The smell…  something indescribable, but so familiar.  A scent of…  home?  No.

The fur tore away from her, as if offended by that thought, her warm secure blanket floating away, becoming smaller, and assumed a shape…

Razor sharp fangs sliced the air, and two identical flashes of red accompanied the glistening incisors, canines, premolars and molars of this beast with an incredibly furry pelt.  She'd never seen anything like it before.  Her first reaction was to assume a fighting stance.  Until further notice, it was an enemy.

'Do not be frightened.'  A voice from inside her head spoke.  It wasn't hers, it sounded older.   The huge, hairy being turned around, and ran from her as only huge, hairy creatures can run.  Okura chased after it, hypnotised by its tail.  The tail definitely brought her recollection around.  She ran faster and faster, trying to catch it up, entranced by the freely waving tail.  A brown, furry tail.  The faster she ran, the longer distance the huge beast seemed to gain, until it was just a moving shadow, only the tail was visible.   She followed the tail for all she was worth, not stopping for anything.  It was like she could run forever, and that is what she believed she was doing.  In her field of vision, she noticed the shape becoming smaller, more compact, changing noticeably.   It slowed down, allowing her to catch up.   

It was a man.  A tall man with long, spiky hair, and covered in muscle.  A Saiyajin man.  A dirty Saiyajin man was in her dream.  Why?

Was there any reason for him to pollute her dreamscape?  He smiled a leery smirk at her.  She felt a little intimidated, but knew that she could still fight.  With a scream, she launched an attack, that seemed painfully slow.  It seemed an eternity before her fist reached its target, and went right through.  In anger, she turned around, and the man was nowhere to be seen.  In his stead, was a boy, maybe a little older than herself.  There was a slight definition of muscle tissue, but not to the extent of before.  He may have been taller than her, but in body mass, she was more solid than him.  The pattern of his hair told her that it was still the same person as before, but a younger version.   Okura didn't know what to think.  She had only seen adult Saiyajin, never one of this age.  The boy regarded her with a mature silence, before he spoke.

"You don't know, do you?"  His voice was double-pitched.  The dominant one being the smooth voice of a prepubescent male, the other was a deep, quiet, rough yet subtle tone of an adult.  It seemed weird that the second voice came out of the long-haired boy.

"Know what?"  Okura asked, in her own voice.  It sounded so squeaky, compared to both of the boy's voices.

"If you don't know it's not worth mentioning."  The boy folded his arms, and gave her a self-satisfied smile, like he thought he was superior than her.  A mere monkey-boy!

"You'd better tell me!"  Her high-pitched voice sounded as threatening as she could make it.

"It's not for me to say.  I thought the others were wrong.  I thought you knew.  But you don't have a clue!  Don't worry, it's not your fault.  You'll know soon enough, maybe."  He chuckled in a mysterious way, like he was holding back a huge secret, and lording it over her.  His cryptic attitude went right over her head, but it was the words that burned.  She had never felt so enraged at anything before in her life, and it wasn't even real.

'I know.'  That older female voice came again from inside her head.  

"What?  What is it?"  Okura was vastly relieved that she might get an answer.

'I cannot say.'  WHAT?   Even her own inner voice was turning against her… or maybe it wasn't even an inner voice, just some other random thing sent to rub her face in something that everyone knew but her.

'Not everyone.'  The female in her mind spoke again.  This was making absolutely NO sense whatsoever.  She'd reached her limit of patience and tolerance.

"If you won't tell me, I'll kill you instead, filthy monkey-child!"  She screamed insanely, her voice reaching unbelievable peaks.  The lad only laughed.

"Ha!  That's really rich coming from a tailless freak!!   Okura the tailless freak!" The voices echoed around her in surround.  All three of them chorused, forcing her into submission.  Blocking her ears did her no good, because it continued inside her head.

"Okura the tailless freak!!!… Tailless freak… Okura… Okura…

"Okura!  3rd class recruit!  Wake up!!"  Dark brown eyes opened, and little hands rubbed the crust of sleep-sand from around them.  

"Wha… Whoozat?"  She asked drowsily.  It felt like her limbs were full of lead, and her brain was replaced by cotton wool.  Maybe it was the after-effects of the stasis gas.  She felt like she couldn't shake this feeling off.

"This is G'Noth.  Are you OK?  You were still asleep after the gas wore off.  We're an hour and a half away from our target."  

"G'Noth…?  Oh!  I remember."  Her scouter beeped, quite frantically, jerking her out of her sluggish, physically and mentally tired state.

"Did your scouter just beep?"  G'Noth asked curiously, wondering why it would.

"Um… yes.  Wait a sec."  Okura attached a sterile needle to a syringe, and inserted it into the rubber lid of the vial.  Straw-coloured liquid seeped into the syringe, up to around 5.25 ml.  Okura inverted the syringe and flicked it gently a couple of times to get the air bubbles to go to the top, then depressed the plunger slowly, making the excess 0.25 ml squirt out the needle in a thin stream, along with any gaps of air.  Out of habit, she inserted the needle into her thigh muscle and pushed the plunger home.  In a few seconds she felt the familiar initial surge of the drug taking effect.  If she was feeling asleep before, she was wide awake now.  Her eyes became more alert, and all her muscle tissue bunched under her flesh, becoming primed for action.  Adrenalin began surging, and for the first time since taking off, she was properly focused, and looking forward to her first mission.

"3rd class recruit Okura standing by for orders!" She saluted, then remembered no-one could see her.  Was she ready or what?

Their pods created deep craters in the terrain as they landed under G'Noth's instruction.  They didn't meet with any enemy fire, the previous squad would have disabled all military forces on this B planet.  Their orders were to destroy any forms of life on this planet.  The Saiyajin were have supposed to, but the moon phase changed earlier than expected, thus having this change in plan.   Because they didn't have to rely on the moon, they could attack any part of the planet they wanted, whether day or night.

"OK, we'll split up into groups of two."  He pulled out a planetary map and marked co-ordinates.  "Since she's new, I'll go lightside with Okura.  You two take darkside and contact me hourly on your progress updates." He ordered the two other third classes – one who resembled a shaggy wolf on two legs and muscles, and one thickset reptilian creature.  Both had low ki, but they had special mini-cannons that covered their hands and forearms, and shot lasers which varied from weak ones that could pack a punch, to medium-sized ones that could kill a Saiyajin, and maim a group of them.  The wolf-like one was called Lukos, and the reptilian one was called Tua.  Tua had a twin called Tara, who was killed when Frieza's forces ravaged his own planet.  They saluted to their squad leader, and took off with their orders to destroy.  G'Noth and Okura took off in opposite direction to the rest of the team, heading off to one of the major cities.

The sun was high in the sky on the planet, which was called Skina.  The sky was brilliant turquoise, and shone down on the lush bright red grass.  The natives were in an uproar over the recent attack made by the Saiyajin, so had placed scouts outside the city limits, and guards within a stronghold.  The city was already in ruins, the Saiyajin having done most of the demolition work.  But since they were recalled after the moon phased out of full, and sent to another planet, the work wasn't quite complete.  Why?  Because there were survivors.  And that was what G'Noth, Okura, Lukos and Tua were here for.

The scouts were too busy scouring the land for the huge hairy apes that had caused so much havoc the night before, that the mismatched pair was invisible to them at an altitude that made them specks to the naked eye at ground level.  They were aware that the sound and the impact of the pods landing might have caused a stir, from observing the scouts closer it looked like they were panning out and contacting their base.  

"We're not taking any chances.  We'll take them out first, before concentrating on the civilians." G'Noth ordered.  Okura nodded in compliance, clear as to what her orders were.  G'Noth pointed to one of the smaller scouts.

"Take him out first.  If he raises alarm, kill anyone else who comes to his aid.  I'll take the biggest one over there."  And so saying, he stealthily flew over and positioned himself above the large scout.  None of them had any energy sensing devices, so were doomed from the start.  G'Noth descended upon his victim as silent as a raindrop, and snapped his neck.  Okura followed suit on her prey, but didn't lock onto him as efficiently as her squad leader, merely knocking him face down in the grass, as she landed on him.

"What the…" The scout gave a pained growl, picked himself up off the ground, and confronted the threat – a little girl.  She didn't have the pointed ears that marked one of their race, so she was an alien.

"Who are you?"  He asked the girl, who stood there regarding him with dark eyes.  Her mouth curled in a small, devilish smirk.

"The one who is about to kill you."  Okura answered him truthfully, and before the scout could process that incredulous notion, she launched herself straight at his unguarded chest, and elbowed him side-on in the solar plexus, knocking the wind from his lungs.  Lungs that would never feel air in them again.  Eyes wide in shock and depletion of precious air watched as the young girl calmly walked towards him.  He tried his best to scoot backwards, all the while struggling to get his diaphragm to move again.  The movement cost him, as he would have been better off conserving his energy.  Okura knelt down and pressed her small hand on his neck and encircled his windpipe.  Her rosebud mouth came close to his pointed ear.

"You're very lucky."  She spoke in an innocent-sounding whisper.  "You're the first one I've ever killed on a proper mission, isn't that neat?  You should be honoured."

The poor scout could do nothing but make choking sounds in reply, as the little hand was deceivingly strong and the pressure on his trachea was unbearable.  Okura watched his eyes in interest, taking note of the struggle to stay alive.  His panic-instincts kicked in, and he writhed, struggled and kicked, but she kept him pinned down with her other hand.  She felt his body go rigid, and knew that he was in death's grasp, and seconds later he relaxed after one final convulsion.  It was beautiful and remarkable, and Okura gave a happy little sigh as he went from frightened to peaceful, his forest green eyes losing their lustre as the life went out of them.  

After a few minutes, she stood up, dusted her hands together and looked around for G'Noth.  He wouldn't be far, close enough not to have to find him with her scouter.  As luck would have it, he was walking towards her.  He held his thumb up, a sign asking if she was successful.  She replied with her own tiny thumb standing upwards from her fist.  For the first time in a while, she felt so free in this fresh air, without the confines of a space ship or the sterile pristine rooms of Frieza's numerous spaceports and bases.  She felt she could do this sort of work for a long time, that it was her nature to exist in this way.  She grinned as G'Noth approached.

"Mission accomplished!"  She beamed at her leader.  G'Noth smiled grimly back.

"Good work, recruit," he said, standing next to her.  "Although somewhat sloppy.  That scout could have alerted his men, had he not being startled and underestimated your skill.  Things could have got very messy."  

Okura couldn't help but hang her head slightly.

"Sorry…" She started.

"I'll overlook it just this once, seeing that you're new.  I won't include it in the report.  Count yourself lucky."  G'Noth stated.  Okura regained some of her happy composure, although she couldn't help but notice a small tinge of menace in G'Noths countenance.

"So what are my orders now, Squad Leader?"

"G'Noth."  He corrected, and stood behind her, facing the city they saw when they were high up in the sky.  He pointed over her head.  "We go there, see where those walls are between those hills?  That's the stronghold where a lot of the remaining population have fled.  We attack that first, and then sweep the surrounding area for stragglers and the ones who may have hidden somewhere, like in the forest to the east."

"I can't see the walls of the stronghold, G'Noth."  Said Okura.  It was true; she was too short to see where G'Noth was directing.  She could see the hills, but nothing in between.

Squad Lead G'Noth pointed again.  Okura was in front of him so didn't his other hand bunching into a fist, and she was too busy scanning the area where his pointing finger was indicating.

"It's right… there."

As soon as the last word left his harsh lips, he wound up his fist and backhanded Okura on the side of the head in a crushing blow.  The little girl's knees buckled and she crumpled onto the bright red grass.


End file.
